


The Hardest Word

by severinne



Category: State of Play (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-29
Updated: 2008-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick, dirty Cal/Stephen ficlet in response to Part 1, set between Cal's ‘Turn around, come back. Let’s get pissed’ and Liz’s morning greeting to Cal in the very next scene of ‘You looked shagged out.’ This pairing writes itself, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Word

  
‘Is that what was bothering you? The spare room?’

Stephen cracked the cap off another miniature bottle and squinted blearily back. ‘You’re joking, right?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Cal tapped the edge of his glass, frowned. ‘No, I’m not, actually. You said it, you tosser.’

‘Said what?’ A soft glug and slosh echoed between Stephen’s fingers, the plastic bottle, his own glass.

‘”Stick your spare room up your arse,” if I recall rightly.’

‘Said sorry, didn’t I?’ Stephen shrugged, a rolling gesture of his broad shoulders that somehow stripped the politician’s poise down to boyish insouciance. ‘Sorry…’ He intoned the word as an echo rather than the word itself, fixing Cal with a sullen glare. ‘You said it too.’

‘The hell I did.’

‘You did!’ Stephen pointed at Cal with his glass. ‘Only thing you had to say, unless I should have read more into those damn flowers you sent.’

 _Oh._ In retrospect, the gesture did seem awfully flippant. Cal was a firm believer in less-is-more, in straightforward facts, not that it ever worked with Stephen, who had a politician’s love of roundabout rhetoric. His idea of more inevitably demanded nothing less than _more_ , from everyone. Especially Cal.

Not that he was going to attempt to explain or excuse the flowers or their two-word note just because Stephen was making a half-drunken effort at the evil eye. Cal glared back, and finished his drink.

‘So.’ Stephen took it upon himself to fill the silence. ‘Just what were you sorry for, then?’

Cal looked away, occupied himself with silently counting through the cluster of miniature whiskey bottles with his fingers. Famous Grouse. _Sorry you’ve fallen arse over tits into one nasty pile of shit._ Canadian Club. _Sorry your marriage might now be more fucked than it already was._ Jameson’s. _Sorry about this job of mine, I know you hate it already but you’ll hate it even more soon enough._ Jack Daniels. _I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch before it came to this._

Lips twisting with self-deprecation, Cal glanced up again. ‘Sorry I stuck you in the spare room.’

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, as though to contain the sharp glinting of his irises. ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ Cal replied breezily, pushing his chair away from the table and standing carefully, easing a slow grace into his step to keep any stumbling at bay as he rounded the table. ‘Should have known you weren’t just looking for a place to lie low. Not like you can’t afford a hotel room on your posh MP salary packet.’ He kept walking forward until his legs were brushing Stephen’s knees, until he could insinuate his own knee between Stephen’s legs, coaxing them wider apart.

Heavy hands clenched at the backs of his thighs, pulling Cal forward into the space defined by Stephen’s spread legs and open arms. He steadied his hands on Stephen’s shoulders, bunching cotton jersey in his fists as Stephen kneaded his arse slowly, deliberately tracing the seam of his jeans running between his buttocks.

‘Waking up earlier on that shitty futon of yours…’ Stephen muttered the words into the wrinkled drape of Cal’s shirt, mouthing at buttons. ‘Saw you standing there… thought you’d seen sense, decided to join me…’

Cal let his head roll back, grinned at the ceiling. ‘You wish,’ he said, voice stuttering slightly as Stephen’s right hand moved around his hip, glancing over the front of his jeans. ‘Bet you had a raging hard-on waiting for me under that duvet – ‘

‘Shut your fucking mouth, Cal.’ Stephen tore at his flies with a bare minimum of care, taking Cal’s hardening cock in hand and squeezing hard. Cal moaned softly, encouragingly, and rocked his hips forward.

‘Make me,’ he breathed.

And it seemed Stephen still knew how to strike Cal speechless, his wet mouth engulfing Cal’s throbbing cock with dizzying ease, sliding up and down his length with broad, angry sweeps of tongue. Cal groaned louder, remembering how the explicitly filthy sound used to drive Stephen mad with lust, and threaded his fingers through Stephen’s dark hair, gripping hard to guide the bobbing of his head. He glanced down, regarding Stephen’s awkwardly bent-forward position with detached interest, then with a surge of cruel joy kicked at the kitchen chair, biting back a choked laugh as Stephen was knocked to the floor, knees hitting the tiles with a resounding crack.

Stephen pulled his head back, glared up at Cal with sneering, reddened lips. ‘Nasty little shit,’ he snarled. Cal flinched – just slightly, really – at the harsh slap of Stephen’s hand against his arse, then forgave it completely as Stephen went back to work at his cock, sucking hard at the head and pumping ruthlessly with his right hand. The pull of such fierce attention captured Cal completely, making him roll helplessly into Stepen’s movements, hands clenching and releasing in soft strands of hair, obscene sounds spilling from his panting mouth.

When he came, it was with a quick snap of the hips and a shout that ended as soon as it had sprung from his lips. Stephen mouthed him gently through the wake of his orgasm, pulling away gradually and pressing his hands reassuringly into Cal’s hips as he rose to his feet. Above the glistening, swollen mouth, Stephen’s eyes were darkly solemn.

Cal sucked in a deep breath, quirked a cheeky smile. ‘Am I forgiven?’

Stephen looked down at him, hands gliding steady as a meditation over Cal’s body. He didn’t speak, but the sound of Stephen’s hand drawing back and smacking down hard against Cal’s arse was all the answer necessary. Cal rocked forward beneath the blow, his exposed cock brushing over the bulge tenting Stephen’s trousers.

‘Fair enough,’ Cal sighed, leaning in closer for a kiss that was all tongue and no lips, tasting himself on Stephen’s mouth. ‘Best we get to bed then, so you can fuck me properly.’

As Cal guided him upstairs, he hoped the bright spark of want in Stephen’s eye would be forgiveness enough.


End file.
